


Can’t Fight This Feeling: Brian

by oiuytrewq36



Series: Soundtrack Trilogy, combined and expanded [4]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:22:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28443108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oiuytrewq36/pseuds/oiuytrewq36
Summary: Justin says “I love you” like it’s the easiest thing a person could ever do, like breathing in after a long sigh or gulping coffee with a hangover, like he doesn’t even have to think.He tells me he loves me on phone calls, in emails, on visits, during sex, after sex, after kisses, after work, when he’s found a new album he loves, when he’s seen a new movie he hates, before he goes to bed, before he goes to work, when he comes out of the shower, when he’s tired, when he’s run down, when he’s happy, when he’s sad, when he’s burning with energy or excitement or rage. He says it all the time, soft or hard, a question, a command, and I know the shape of his lips as he says it whether or not I can see him, I know the white fire in his eyes that knocks all the breath out of me, better than I know myself, sometimes.
Relationships: Brian Kinney/Justin Taylor (Queer as Folk)
Series: Soundtrack Trilogy, combined and expanded [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2077905
Comments: 10
Kudos: 27





	Can’t Fight This Feeling: Brian

Justin says “I love you” like it’s the easiest thing a person could ever do, like breathing in after a long sigh or gulping coffee with a hangover, like he doesn’t even have to think.

He tells me he loves me on phone calls, in emails, on visits, during sex, after sex, after kisses, after work, when he’s found a new album he loves, when he’s seen a new movie he hates, before he goes to bed, before he goes to work, when he comes out of the shower, when he’s tired, when he’s run down, when he’s happy, when he’s sad, when he’s burning with energy or excitement or rage. He says it all the time, soft or hard, a question, a command, and I know the shape of his lips as he says it whether or not I can see him, I know the white fire in his eyes that knocks all the breath out of me, better than I know myself, sometimes.

I love him the way he says “I love you”: all the time, everywhere, so much it hurts, so much it feels like all of my organs are slowly, slowly being ripped from my body every time I think about his face, but like an anchor, the only thing that’s ever held me steady this way. I don’t say it as often as he does, not because I haven’t felt it every second of every fucking day practically since I met him, but because I can’t say it unless I can really say it, if that makes sense - I know it doesn’t, but fuck you anyway - so I say it when it flows the way it does for him. And that’s more often than you might think, by the way. When he’s glowing with feeling, good or bad, sometimes I just can’t hold it back, and we’ve had more than one spat since he left for New York where he or I will be on a visit and we’ll get into it and he’ll have that brilliant flush that comes with the way he feels everything with all of his heart, with more than all of it, and I’ll forget everything I’ve just said and tell him that I love him, and he’ll look frustrated and desperately happy at the same time just before he dives at me, throws me to the ground so we can skip right to the makeup sex.

I tell him that once, when I’m just this side of really fucking crossfaded and he happens to call. It’s not a scheduled one, just one of his “just because” calls that we’ve both stopped pretending I’m annoyed by. I pick up the phone and roll over in bed and listen to his low beautiful voice for a while, and at some point, I’m not sure why (I am sure why, it’s because he’s beautiful and irresistible and I am so madly ridiculously gone on him that even my decades-long effort to lock away my heart has fallen to pieces where he’s concerned) I tell him that I’m not trying to get out of arguments when I say “I love you,” that he’s just so gorgeous when he’s angry that I can’t fucking take it and I need him to know.

Justin laughs. God, his laugh. “I figured,” he says.

I smile down the phone at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, and I know that he’s thinking about the last time we had one of those bouts, some dumb thing about my guilt complex (what guilt complex?) that ended in us screwing for hours in every room of a five-star hotel suite until all the thumping and howling made the people next door call the front desk. In a schmantzy joint with good walls, that’s actually quite an achievement.

Then Justin says, “Sometimes I jerk off just to the memory of how you say it,” and things really start to get interesting.

“Yeah?” I say again. I slide one hand into my sweatpants and then, on second thought, just take them off altogether. These are dangerous waters we’re entering, I guess, but his voice is all husky and thick now and I _want_ him, and as any Tuesday-night special at the Adonis will tell you, a stiff dick has no conscience.

Justin hums, just a little growly. Fuck, I love when he goes butch on me. 

“Seeing you vulnerable-” he says, still in that deep rough voice, and uh-oh, now my dick is going one direction while my defense mechanisms go another, but fuck it all, I’m not stopping. “It’s everything,” he finishes, a little breathier now.

We’re deep in as it is, and my brain is a little floaty, probably the only reason I’ve let this conversation go as far as it has. But in for a penny and all that shit, so I murmur back, “I’m so fucking crazy about you,” and he fucking _whimpers_ , my Justin, reduced to nothing just from hearing words I never thought I’d say. 

I hadn’t even noticed that I’m right on the edge of shooting my load, now - THC will do that to you, and technically this probably makes for some pretty lame phone sex but from the way Justin’s moaning I doubt he minds. “I love you, Sunshine,” I tell him, and mean it, completely, and he comes from that on the other end of the line. I can still hear the pitiful little pleas he’s making as I finish myself off, his soft quivery voice in my ear, my handiwork.

“God,” Justin says, a minute or so later. “Shit, Brian.”

I can’t stop myself from laughing, just a little. He laughs back, and I picture him lying back in his too-small bed in his too-small room in New York, a lazy satisfied smile on his face.

“I’m coming up this weekend,” I say, deciding it practically as I speak, wondering if i should take it back just as quickly. “If you-”

“Fuck, yes,” Justin says, and he’s smiling now, I know. “I love it when you come here, Brian, you know that.”

“I know,” I say, and it’s practically true. 

“I love you,” Justin says, and for once it’s easy, so I just say it back.


End file.
